the_rotten_fistfandomcom-20200215-history
Marnie
Marnie wept. A voice inside her head insisted that hobgoblins don’t cry, it’s just not right. If anything, that increased the flow of tears. Her orange eyes were swollen. Warm salty water coursed down her mossy green cheeks. A dull ache filled her body. Alogrir was gone. Forever. It was time to leave and never return. She knew this day would come. She’d always known. It was a fact of life. All healthy hobgoblins had to perform their duty and procreate. Attachments were irrelevant, you were simply matched with a hobgoblin who was available and not too closely related to you. You did the deed and moved on. That part was fine. It was the next part she wasn’t prepared for. No one warned Marnie that she would feel connected to the life growing inside her. The fierce love she felt for the babe was like nothing else she’d felt before. Love is a foreign concept in hobgoblin culture. You love fighting and that’s the only kind of love you feel. You certainly don’t feel love for your offspring. How unnatural. Marnie had never felt as if she had fit in. She had always gotten in trouble for daydreaming as a child, a most unhobgoblin past time. Marnie contemplated the sky, the different colours of grass and the texture of dirt as she was constantly beaten by her opponents who made short work of the unfocused youth. She liked being on the ground and looking up at the sky. It didn’t bother her that she’d been defeated to end up there. You can’t win all the time. The rigours of the training hall ensured that even a hobgoblin with her head in the clouds could hold her own in battle. Marnie could eventually fight as hard as her fellows but she never held their level of passion for it. Fighting and warfare were fine but surely there was more to life. Marnie now known there was more to life. Love for one’s child. She held her babe in her arms as the tiny infant suckled at her breast. It wouldn’t be long now before he was taken away. Three weeks was the standard weaning period and it had already been 19 days since she gave birth to her son. He had already grown in that time. Hobgoblins grow fast. As her son grew stronger, she grew weaker. Her spirit was fading. She couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from Alogrir. You weren’t supposed to name your offspring, that was another thing that set Marnie apart. She had the wisdom to keep the name to herself and only whisper it in her babe’s ear. The other mothers in the clinic were talking about how much they were looking forward to getting out in the field again and how tedious they found their current situation. Many of them had been through it before. Marnie couldn’t imagine anything more joyous than being with her child. She didn’t want this time to end. Alogrir finished nursing and chuckled contentedly. He had mimicked Marnie’s laugh a few days ago not long after his first smile and let out chortles of laughter from time to time for no apparent reason, other than his own joy. Marnie smiled. She lifted her son up and kissed his smooth pale green head. He giggled and bared his gums in his imitation of a smile. Marnie’s heart filled with love for the infant in her arms. A door opened at the far end of the clinic. Heavy footsteps filled the room. A sense of dread started to fill Marnie. She clutched Alogrir tighter to her. Surely it wasn’t time to give up her child yet. It hadn’t been a full three weeks yet. A nurse led a stranger over to her bed. He wore a long cloak with a symbol she didn’t recognise pinned to it. The symbol was a fist enclosed in a circle. Marnie knew he had come to take her babe. She didn’t bother struggling. She knew there was no point. She whispered once more into Alogrir’s ear words of love before handing him over. She felt her heart break.